What About The Hamptons?
by Jayce Gish
Summary: READ PLEASE. Funny stuff, pre-Season II finale, this is a 4-part light piece about Castle taking Beckett to his "cottage" in The Hamptons for some R&R and getting Demming out of Beckett's life. Pro Team Castle. Fluff and FUNNY - we'll probably need it
1. Chapter 1

**This is a quick thought (well, a quick thought for me – I get paid by the word, same as Dickens) that I just wanted to scribble down. I heard from the teaser for the final episode of Season II that Beckett remarks that (apparently) Castle invites her to his "place in The Hamptons" for a weekend . . . I thought that this might make a fun scenario. I'm not sure what the real Castle writers were hinting at (let's face it – the teasers are usually not even close to what the episode actually contains), but I thought I'd play with the keyboard for a little while and see what turned up.**

**I challenge everyone else to do their own little scenario: gotta do it quickly before the final episode of Season II airs and we get yet another Castle/Beckett cliff hanger. Here goes mine.**

**Oh, yes, this will be at least a 2 or 3 parter. Part 1 is as far as I've gotten so far. It gets a little (but not much) spicier in Parts 2 and 3, but I wanted to lay the groundwork of Demming being made less and less a part of Kate's future. (Obviously, this is Team Castle; my other story is too dark so I wanted something lighter, and I have one vision that I will need to include in Part 2 that puts a grin on my face.)**

**And, one more thing. I LET CASTLE DRIVE! tee hee. Usual disclaimer; just borrowing the characters from ABC**

**Reviews appreciated.**

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The smell of the freshly brewed coffee gently awoke Beckett from her restful sleep. She had kept all of the windows of the guest room she was sleeping in open through the night, and while the cold salty night air had caused her to snuggle deep underneath the down comforter throughout the evening, she awoke fully refreshed in the soft queen-sized bed after only six hours of sleep. Her slumber had been uninterrupted by traffic, street bums sorting through the trash, or arguing neighbors. Beckett had slept better than she had in years, and despite the still present chill in the early morning air, she smelled the aroma of the coffee and decided that it was finally time to push back the covers and rise out of that wonderfully protective bed, quickly adding a sweater over the large T-shirt and sweat pants that she had worn to sleep.

Due to delays at both the precinct (just a few more pieces of paperwork to fill out, sign, duplicate and file) and later at Castle's loft (Martha had decided to join them last minute, and although Rick rather begrudgingly welcomed his mother's company, that woman took forever to pack; and, of course, they couldn't leave Alexis alone, as much as she might have welcomed the privacy, so she also had to pack). As a result of the delays, the party of four hadn't arrived at the front security gate of the walled complex at the eastern end of Long Island until shortly after midnight. As they approached the entry gate by the guard house, Castle had greeted the uniformed armed guard by name.

"Good evening, Andrews."

The man smiled warmly at Castle and at his family as he peered into the vehicle. "Good evening, Mr. Castle. Ms. Martha. Ms. Alexis. It's been too long. For my security patrols, how long will you be in residence? It's too early in the season for the heavy partying, so I'm guessing just a weekend of writing?" Then he saw Beckett. "Or perhaps an extended weekend?" While there was a momentary look of puzzlement followed by a slight grin across Andrews' face, he retained his professional neutrality. Mr. Castle was usually partial to well-endowed blondes; a brunette was a change of pace for him. And, when he had a blonde as his companion, his mother and daughter were not usually accompanying him. "Ma'am," he added, directly addressing Beckett, "welcome." She returned the acknowledgement with a slight nod, aware that she was being closely scrutinized. Castle picked up on the cue. "Andrews, this is Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. She is being rewarded with a weekend away from the Big City to spend a few days with my family at the cottage."

Andrews quickly made the connection that Castle had only hinted at. "This is Nikki Heat? My honor, Detective. Enjoy your stay. We'll do everything we can to make sure it remains private and quiet." As he again addressed Castle; there was no doubt in Beckett's mind that the cottage's proprietor, Richard Castle, was the power player in so far as Security was concerned. "It has indeed been very quiet, Mr. Castle. Only a few owners are present at this time, and no tourists. It should remain quiet. Please let me know if I may be of any further use. To anyone," he added, for Beckett's benefit, and raised the gate to allow the car entry. The driver immediately turned left and headed down a wide unlined residential street.

"We're almost there, just a few houses more," Castle told Beckett, actually rather unhappy that Andrews had identified his extra guest. Soon, Castle reached up to press a button on the car's sun visor. Ahead on the right, Beckett noted that a large iron gate was starting to part, and Rick steered the car onto the grounds behind the gate which closed behind them. As the car continued down the long driveway, the headlights illuminated the blacktop, revealing manicured landscaping to both sides of the driveway. Beckett realized that either the landscaping purposely blocked the view of any surrounding houses, providing total privacy for the occupants, or they were driving through either what would pass as a small estate or a municipal park.

The driveway ended at a circular car park in front of their destination. Immediately after the engine on the car was cut, the lights by the front door activated, revealing a massive two story cedar shake building with a large covered porch that wrapped around the entire outside of the structure.

Castle put the car in park and then walked around the car, opening the doors for the ladies. "Alexis, Sweetheart, wake up, we're here. Mother, I'll take in your bag for you." He walked to the other side of the car and opened the door for the lady he was nervously trying to impress for the next forty-eight hours. "Beckett . . ." He let the sentence unfinished as he noted the expression on Kate's face as he helped her out of the car. She was still occupied in trying to take in all of the details of the now-illuminated exterior. "Let's get settled quickly, ladies. I just want to directly turn in and go to sleep; tomorrow will be a big day of relaxation, followed by a late brunch, and then a nap. At least, that is my plan. You are free to do what you wish. Alexis, are you awake? It's time to go to sleep. . . and, don't say anything, I know how odd that sounds."

He turned his attention back to Beckett. "Are you okay?" Beckett nodded absently, unaware that she was holding her breath as she realized that what Castle had referred to as "a cottage" back at the police station was actually a mansion. With the façade now fully lit, she was slowly shaking her head.

"Impressive, Castle," was all that she could manage to speak. "Impressive."

Castle smiled. The score now clearly stood at: Castle-1, Demming-0. He was pleased. He was also pleased that Martha and Alexis had made quick bee lines onto the front porch and into the cottage and had left him alone with Beckett standing in the driveway. He watched her face as she began to count the number of windows, of which no two appeared to be the same size.

"There are fifty-five," he prompted her.

"What?"

"Fifty-five. Windows. I don't clean them, but I did design fifty-five different windows."

"You designed?" Beckett looked at him. "Architecture? Another talent, Castle?"

He laughed. "No, just another manner of procrastination during a bout of writer's block." He saw her fold her arms and draw them into her body. She was not dressed for the sharp breeze that was rising off of Long Island Sound. "Come on, Beckett, its getting cold, that kind of cold that goes down right into your bones at night here by the water. Let's get you inside and tucked in."

If she heard the double-entendre, she ignored it.

She looked around, but could only see the large lawn and the front of the buildbg. "Where is the water?"

He laughed. "At the back door. Beckett, you can't tell at night, especially when it is cloudy with only a sliver of a moon, but this is beach property. The Sound is just on the other side of the cottage. About one hundred feet of beach. You can set foot on it tomorrow. Usually, you'll hear the waves at high tide, but we've apparently arrived at low tide." He smiled at her. "I didn't check the tide schedule before we left Manhattan. Regardless, you'll see it all tomorrow when the sun is actually up. For now, let's get you inside."

He picked up her bag with one hand and offered his other arm for her to take his elbow as he escorted her to the front door. "Martha is presently in the kitchen making a large pot of tea, which she always does upon arrival. If you are chilly, and I see that you are, I suggest you take a mug of tea up to your room and slip on it until you get into bed and warm it up; there's no heat on the second floor after April."

He paused and lowered his voice to a soft, sexy baritone. He was determined that he would remain on good behavior for the remainder of "Remember, Detective, that you are my guest for the weekend. Make yourself at home and just relax. Can you do that? Can I trust you to do that?"

Beckett forced her attention away from the facade of the mansion/cottage and discovered that his face was very close to hers. She looked into his very blue eyes. "I can certainly try," she honestly replied, putting her arm through his, and allowing him to lead the way to the front porch.

Castle allowed himself to drop her arm as she stepped into the entry way. In as far as Castle's Tribecca loft was decorated in minimalist modern, the "cottage" was decorated in eclectic comfortable: overly stuffed sofas, quilts draped over side chairs, a large picnic table with benches served as the informal dining room, and everywhere there were small reading areas outlined by bookcases filled with books and inividual reading lamps. Beckett also noted that the great room contained no less than three fireplaces.

Alexis brought Kate a large mug of steaming hot tea, which she gladly accepted. "We used to fight over who got to sit closest to the fireplace, so Dad installed an additional two; end of the fights."

Beckett realized that she had no desire to try to figure out which ex-wife of Castle had necessitated the need for three fireplaces in the same rooim, so she let it drop.

Castle had now brought in all of the luggage and placed it inside of the front door. "Okay, grab you bags, ladies. I'm exhausted, so I'm going upstairs." He was holding Kate's weekender. "Kate, I'll show you where your room is. . ."

Martha shook her head. "Richard, you are exhausted. Just take her bag upstairs for her. I'll take care of Kate, you get some rest. And, we'll all see each other tomorrow morning."

He thought about it and nodded his head. "Well, then, I'll see everyone tomorrow morning. Goodnight, everyone."

"Goodnight, Dad, I'm following you up," responded Alexis, taking her bag up the stairs.

Martha turned to Kate Beckett. "Well, shall we?"

* * *

**Yeah, I know, I'm really heavy on the exposition. Fun stuff coming up in Chapter 2. This is kind of light, and Rick's butt takes center stage in the next installment. Cute, not smutty. (Payback for the fact that, IMHO, Nathan has a great butt. So there.)**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Martha watched as her granddaughter followed her father upstairs, each giving the other a warm hug at the upper landing, and then each turning in opposite directions toward their respective bedroom. Martha waited until she heard two doors close, and then she turned to the newest Castle houseguest.

"Okay, the kids are off to visit the sandman. Detective, would you like a night cap? Would you like to join the adults, okay, the remaining adult, in an alcoholic beverage? A nice glass of red wine, perhaps? I know there is also sherry somewhere. . ." Martha was already heading into the kitchen toward the butler's pantry where her son maintained a full selection of wine for his mother's indulgence.

Beckett shook her head. "Martha, can I take a rain check until tomorrow? It's been a very long day for me, too. I think I just want to get some sleep. Would you mind terribly? Besides, I have my tea. . ."

Martha looked at Kate Beckett. "I'm so sorry, Kate, I'm not thinking clearly. You have had a long day, haven't you? Let me show you the upstairs. . ." and Martha took Kate's elbow and literally pushed her up the stairs. "There are seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, the billiards room, the nursery, and an upstairs parlor. There is an upstairs balcony that accesses all of the bedrooms facing the ocean which are all located on this side of the house. The upstairs parlor has a fully glassed-in wall with a circular stairway that leads up to the widow's walk on the roof: perfect view of The Sound after the sun rises in the morning, if you are into early mornings. I, of course, am not. Alexis sleeps in the master bedroom at the far left end of the hall, since it was the only room large enough to hold all of her stuffed animals and, well, Richard's toys. . ."

Beckett smiled and paused on the steps they were climbing. "More laser tag?"

Martha suddenly showed an expression of exasperation. "The laser tag stays in Tribecca. However, the Star Wars toys rule in the Hamptons." The tall redhead rolled her eyes. "That is Martha's Prime Directive. Just pretend you don't know about it." Beckett almost made a comment about the inappropriate usage of Star Trek's Prime Directive as being applied to merchandising from Star Wars, but realized that might demonstrate how attentive she had been to learning about science fiction programming since meeting Richard Castle, so she let the comment pass by.

The two women were now standing at the top of the landing. "Just in case if you are interested, Detective, my Richard sleeps in the bedroom at the far right end of the right hall. I sleep next to Alexis' room on the left. Way over there. . ." Beckett smiled to herself, as if she didn't notice Martha's none too subtle attempts to steer her and Castle into a weekend tryst at the far end of the hall opposite from the rest of Castle's immediate family. Martha, confident that she had made her point, continued the mini tour of the upstairs. "Okay, now that you have the general layout of the terrain . . ah. . . let's see exactly where Richard chose to put your bag. . ."

Martha was making it crystal clear that, with every open bedroom door that proved to be empty as they proceeded down the right hand side of the building, Beckett could see the homey décor of each room. Not to mention, that as they passed another unoccupied room after another, they were getting closer and closer to Castle's bedroom. On the third door to the right, they found Beckett's sole piece of luggage sitting on a large wooden chest at the foot of a four-poster bed. A hurricane lantern on the small bureau had been lit and was the only source of light in the room, casting a soft flickering glow. Beckett stepped into the room feeling like she was entering the eighteenth century, noting the soft floral wallpaper, the hand-painted antique furnishings, and the plush oriental carpets on the cherry hardwood floors.

Beckett then saw the set of double French doors that opened onto the second floor balcony. "Martha, this room is stunning. Is there a reason that this isn't yours?"

Martha slightly shook her head. "It once was. Bad memories." She paused for a moment and then forcibly returned a smile to her face. "Time for a new tenant. I'm sure Richard assigned it to you for just that purpose. You'll get the mid-day light in here. Feel free to sleep in, with this angle of exposure, the sun won't wake you up first thing in the morning . . .which is rapidly approaching, so I'll just say goodnight right here, and right now, and I will see you some time tomorrow. . . The bathroom is through that door." She paused again. "And, Detective. . . "

"Kate. Please, Martha, call me Kate."

Kate. Richard's room is the second set of French doors to the right off the outside balcony. . ." Martha smiled at her. "Good evening, Kate. And, sweet dreams."

"Good evening, Martha. And, thank you." As Martha walked out of the room, Kate couldn't help but notice Castle's mother making a final hand gesture to indicate the direction of her son's bedroom, just in case Beckett needed an additional reference.

Smiling with that memory etching itself on her brain, Beckett opened her suitcase, pulled out her sweatpants and a T-shirt to sleep in, and made her way to the bathroom. Within ten minutes, she had emerged, walked over to the French doors and cracked them slightly for some fresh ocean evening air, and then poured herself into the large four-poster bed. Detective Beckett was asleep within moments of climbing between the crisp sheets and pulling the 100 year old goose feathered quilt up to her chin.


	3. Chapter 3

3. The First Sighting

It was the smell of coffee that somehow permeated Kate's dreams. As she unwillingly awoke, all she could remember was that in her dream, she had been surrounded by no less than six young redheaded children all wearing laser tag gear as they ran throughout the great room downstairs. Kate didn't really want to open her eyes, knowing that the childrens' faces would vanish as soon as she did so. "Castle babies. . . , she muttered, more asleep than awake. However, the coffee smelled so tempting. . . Kate glanced at her father's watch that she had placed on the small antique table by the side of the bed that also held the mug of now very cold tea. It was precisely 6:00 A.M. As she realized that her dream children and their noise had faded, she pushed back the covers and stood up. All at once she heard the sound of the waves breaking gently on the beach, and she walked over to the French doors.

Last night, Beckett had had no idea of how close the "cottage" was to the shore. This morning she realized that the back yard of the building was less than 300 feet from the high tide water mark. She started to move more quickly; it was time to go exploring.

The sun was just starting to illuminate the sky over the water as Detective Beckett wrapped a large knitted sweater around her as protection from the cold ocean air and made her way from her room toward the kitchen. She paused at the top of the landing, looked to the left and the right for any open doors, and listened. No other voices, no movements heard from any of the rooms. However, unlike her empty apartment back in the City, the house felt occupied, and only temporarily silent. Beckett made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Well, she thought, someone must have been up. There was a full pot of coffee on the counter with a choice of heavy mugs sitting next to it, neither of which she remembered seeing last night. She poured herself a full mug, added some half and half from the refrigerator, and looked around at the great room. It was close to her dream, but despite the three fire places, it seemed larger without the swarm of active children running through it. The Detective decided to begin her exploration outside and walked through the nearest set of doors that were level with the raised wooden deck that led directly to the beach.

Kate Beckett sat on the large raised wooden patio deck overlooking the ocean. Although Manhattan was an island, most New Yorkers paid little, if any, attention to that fact. Here, where the sky was still grey with only a hint of pink at this early hour, Beckett was confronted with nature. Yeah, she thought, I could get used to this real quickly. It was nice to experience how the other half lived, even if it was only for 48 hours, less the commute. Instead of car horns, the only sounds Kate Beckett heard were those of the breaking waves and a few half-hearted fights between seagulls checking out the tidbits that had been washed onto the beach overnight.

After a few minutes, Kate was joined by Alexis. "Good morning, Detective. You are an early riser."

"Good morning, Alexis. I just wanted to enjoy the peaceful morning. And, to see the ocean. It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Alexis nodded. "I love coming to the cottage; I wish Dad would spend more time here, too, but he craves the hectic pace of the City more than the soothing sound of the breaking surf. . ."

Her voice trailed off as something caught her eye. Beckett followed her line of sight, and was rewarded with the vision of a barely clad, extraordinary well toned male body, stretching where the surf was folding over at his feet. Beckett took a good look: his back was to them, but even at that distance, she could easily make out the well developed shoulders, the clearly defined large biceps, a discernable waist line, his narrow hips, and a very shapely set of buns sitting atop two well developed legs. "Here's to Mother Nature," remarked Beckett, who raised her mug of coffee in salute to the view.

Alexis looked at the man being saluted, and then at Beckett, and then back at the man as a slight smile came over her face. She looked at Beckett's expression out of the corner of her eye and how their house guest was concentrating on the very masculine figure at the end of the beach. This could be interesting, she thought, as only a sixteen year old teenager could think, and remained silent as Beckett continued watching the nominally clad male in the tight attire as he continued his physical routine.

It was over five minutes of delightful uninterrupted viewing of the man before Beckett became aware that a dinner bell had been ringing for several seconds, then a few seconds of silence, and then it rang again. The figure on the beach either disregarded or failed to hear the sound. As it rang again, Beckett's concentration was broken, and she turned to see Martha standing behind them, dressed in a full length fur coat and holding two large mugs of hot coffee, while pulling on a chain attached to the large iron bell mounted to the side of the cottage. Martha seemed to be trying to get the attention of the man exercising on the beach. Was he being warned about trespassing? Becket has no idea what Martha was trying to do. However, after final pull of the bell, she walked the fifteen feet to join them on the edge of the deck. All three of the women were now looking at the lone male on the beach who was continuing with his workout, his back still to them as he looked out across the ocean.

Finally, Martha had had enough. "Alexis, will you go and get your Dad? I've been calling, but he's either out of earshot or just ignoring me. Here, take his coffee to him, and try not to spill it all before he has a chance to take a sip."

"Sure, Gram," replied the redhead, and she took the mug, smiled very smugly at Kate, and began to jog to the figure who still had their back to them.

Kate's expression, which had been clearly viewed by Alexis, was that of total amazement. "Your . . . Dad?" It was more than a sputter than a statement.

It was now Martha's turn to see the look on Kate's face, and then glanced at Castle as he continued his workout, unaware that his daughter was approaching. "Detective, you honestly didn't recognize my Richard?" Martha was equally amazed. "After almost two years, you didn't realize that. . . you haven't, have you . . . well, you know. . ." At that moment, Alexis set down the mug of coffee into a sand dune, and jumped onto her father's back. Beckett could see his immediate reaction of surprise, then delight, and how he effortlessly managed to flip his daughter up, turn his body, and catch her in his arms as he gently placed her feet back on the sand. Beckett watched the pantomime as Alexis gestured to where the Detective and her grandmother were standing, and then reached down and handed her father the coffee. Alexis ran ahead with Castle taking the rear as he sipped from the mug and wrapped a towel around those broad shoulders as he walked up the path through the scrub brush to the house.

Martha was getting worried. After almost two years of working together in close proximity, Kate still had no idea as to what was actually contained under those dark blue and bright purple custom-made button down shirts that Richard Castle so favored? Actually, those shirts that had to be custom-made in order to accommodate his upper body musculature? This was not good. In fact, it was downright pathetic, in so far as she was concerned. And, Martha came to the realization that she needed to do something about it, and she had only a 24 hour window to accomplish her aim.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Martha Meddles

Martha was hoping that no one would notice that she had left the gathering on the deck and returned to the kitchen. She knew that her son had fallen in love with Detective Beckett some months ago, but the relationship was not only stalled, she was now aware that all 4 wheels were stuck in the sand. She was getting more and more worried. Her son and her future next-daughter-in-law had been together for almost two years, and Kate still couldn't recognize Rick's physique without his shirt on? Whatever happened to free love? Whatever happened to the sexual revolution? Why did the 60's have to come to an end? Martha was getting desperate. What was she to do? Her son deserved to be madly in love with the woman of his dreams: what was he doing in this stalled, stale relationship?

She needed a drink. Any kind, any color, any size. Glass optional. Maybe it would free up her mind. She had, what, two minutes to liberate and consume all of the alcohol in the pantry? She was up for a challenge, right?

For her part, Kate had found herself unable to move from the deck as her eyes watched Richard Castle's barely clad body walking up the path from the ocean to where she was standing on the edge of the back yard deck. What was worse, she was aware that Castle knew this fact, in so far as his intense blue eyes were boring into her. His posture was absolutely straight, his walk (no more sauntering) was deliberate and confident as he advanced his firm thighs, and Beckett knew: She was toast. She also knew that he was enjoying her discomfort. Immensely. To add to her torture, he even grabbed one end of the towel that he had thrown around his shoulders with his free hand and let the piece of cloth drop to his side, and then to the sand, giving her an interrupted view of his fully developed upper torso.

And, he kept approaching, the smirk on his lips became more and more apparent as he was now less than fifty feet away. He slightly slowed down the speed of his advancement, allowing Beckett's eyes to feast over the vision of male sculpture that was Richard Castle.

Kate was realizing that she wasn't even winning an internal dialogue with her own psyche. "Common, Kate," she told herself, "you've spent hours sitting next to this man. You sat knee to knee at your desk in the station. You've sat next to each other in the interrogation room. The two of you have commuted for miles and miles sitting in close proximity in the front seat of your own car. Why didn't you realize what was under that baggy navy blue jacket months ago? Just look at those biceps, at those thighs. Not to mention what appears to be compacted as a notable bulge in the front of those trunks. It's only Castle. It's your friend, Richard. Rick. Ricky. Oh, why the hell didn't I realize what I was really sitting next to was an Adonis. His body is perfection. This is proof: I'm an absolute idiot. I'm too stupid to live."

He was now standing less than ten feet from her, and had come to a momentary halt. Kate's brain was on overdrive. She tried to relocate her concentration downwards from his shaggy mop of brown hair to his blue eyes, to his sinewy neck and shoulders, and downwards from there, but this internal voice was offering her an inane running commentary about what was directly in her view ("Kate, you've always been an admirer of broad shoulders; let Atlas know that you've found his replacement." "That doesn't even make sense, but if humanity still believed in the Greek pantheon of gods, it would probably be relevant."). She then tried to concentrate on his bare chest and well developed pecs ("Oh, that was a bad idea, Kate, although we now know that the slight amount of chest hair he has is kind of a dark blonde!" "Hey, do you know that even when compared to Castle, you're still really, really flat?").

And then, her eyes dropped down below his waste, to the tight light brown spandex trunks that clung tightly to his body from just below his navel to almost his mid-thigh. ("Don't do it, Beckett, don't do it. Oh, damn, you looked! Bad, bad, bad girl. But you like what you see, right? Are you going to simply jump him right here? Put yourself out of your misery, okay? He'll only remind you about this moment for the next fifty-five or so years, probably. Sixty, sixty-five, okay, seventy years, at the max.")

Castle took another step forward, and shook his head in a last attempt to rid his hair of the last of the salt water. The result was that his bangs spread across his entire forehead, giving him the appearance of bed hair. A tall, nearly nude, dominant male in his prime, standing less than five feet in front of her.

Kate heard a squeak. Unfortunately, she realized all too late that it had come from her. And, the worse of it was, Castle had also heard it, as his raised eyebrow indicated. With an attitude of complete nonchalance, he took those final three steps to position himself directly in front of her. With the slight elevation of the wooden deck above the sand where Kate was standing, they were exactly eye to eye.

It was a good thing that Alexis had taken Kate's coffee mug from her when she saw her Dad's dramatic flourish with the dropping of the towel from his shoulders to the sand, and she had quickly retreated to the kitchen. After all, even though this posturing involved sex, this was her father and the woman that Alexis had become very fond of.

There was her Grams, standing at the kitchen table, and she was drinking cooking sherry directly out of the bottle. What could she do in the next few hours to cement a deal between the couple?

"Gram. Think of something," begged Alexis.

"I'm trying. I'm trying!"

"What do you have, Gram?"

"Nothing. Nothing!"

"Gram! You're not helping!"

Castle stood eye to eye with Beckett. Despite the squeak that had emanated from the tall female, Rick knew that he almost finally had her just where he had wanted her to be for the past 18 months. This is it, he thought. At this time, her entire world comprises of Richard Castle, just as my entire world for these past months has consisted of Detective Kate Beckett. The final score has been determined, and there shall be no rematch: Castle-3; Demming-0. Three strikes and Demming is out. Yes, Tom Demming is about to a mere footnote in the past romantic history of Detective Kate Beckett.

Castle realized that he had to say something. Out loud.

"Beckett."

"Castle."

So far, so good. Unfortunately, that was the extent of the script that he had written. She was, at this point, supposed to have thrown her arms around him, crushing her lips to his lips as their tongues entwined with one another, and pressing her chest against his, and he was to have carried her dramatically into the house, effortlessly up the stairs, and then down the hall to the right, tossing her on his bed and ravishing her for at least the next fifteen hours.

Unfortunately, for some reason, he had failed to come up with a Plan "B" in case she had not instantly wrapped herself around him with complete abandon.

"Beckett, anything new?" Their mouths were less than three inches apart.

"Not really, Castle." They continued to stare at one another's eyes.

"Well, keep me posted if anything develops."

"Okay, I will."

After a brief two second pause, he turned to the right, automatically walking toward the outside shower, to wash the salt from his body, just like he had been doing after every swim for the past eighteen or so years.

As soon as he had turned out of her line of vision, Beckett made a hasty retreat toward the ocean. At full speed. Down the same path that the man had just advanced.

And the moment was lost.

Martha had looked out the window. There was no other way to say it: Her son was pathetic. And, his intended bride wasn't exactly saving the day, either. She watched helplessly as Rick walked to the outside shower, and as Kate started to run toward the ocean.

Martha suddenly had a thought, and she ran into the kitchen, opening up drawers, removing the dish towels and dish cloths, and throwing them into the cold oven and shutting the oven door. "Alexis, go sit at the kitchen counter. With your back to the door." She saw the questions in her granddaughter's eyes. No time to explain. "Just do it."

Alexis had a look of uncertainty, but she followed her grandmother's directions, and sat on one of the high bar stools, with her back to the outside door. "Now what?"

"Now we wait."

It took about three minutes for Richard Castle to complete his shower. As Martha had expected, her son was on autopilot, and after he had showered, he was heading into the great room. As he always had. Without his trunks. And, as usual, without his towel.

Martha channeled every spec of her acting ability to the forefront. This was exactly what she had depended upon, that her son would resort to his past behavior in an attempt to refuse to recognize the failure of his immediate situation. He had done it so often in the past. Maybe he would continue the pattern now. And, yes, he did exactly as she had expected him to act.

"Mother. . ."

Martha pretended to be shocked at the sight of her son, naked, in the great room, still dripping from the outside shower that had removed the ocean's salt from his skin.

"Alexis, don't turn around. Your father has apparently, once again, misplaced his towel."

Martha looked at Alexis. She had her eyes tightly closed, and was now resting her head in the fold of her arms on the counter. She wasn't going to see anything she didn't want to, and no teenage girl wanted to see her father standing naked in their kitchen.

"Honestly, Richard, what are you thinking?" At least Rick managed to place himself directly behind the bottle of sherry that she had positioned on the kitchen picnic table.

"Mother, just throw me a towel," he instructed. She calmly and slowly opened one, and then two of the kitchen drawers.

"I'm sorry, Richard, there doesn't appear to be any at the ready."

"What? We have thousands of kitchen towels. I just need one."

"Richard, the drawer is empty."

"Then give me two wash clothes, and I can tie them together. Alexis, keep your eyes closed."

"Don't worry, Dad."

Martha made a point of opening yet another drawer, and she pulled out a ladle, two spacholas, and a corkscrew. "Richard, you are out of luck. Where is Kate?"

I don't know. Things didn't go too good."

"What do you mean? 'Things didn't go too good'? All you had to do is admit to her that you love her. You do, don't you? You love her?"

"Of course I love her."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Not exactly. . ." He shook his head. "I'm a fool. I don't even know where she is now. How can I tell her that I love her? That I've loved her ever since I first saw her?"

Martha looked at her son, and then past him. "Well, considering she is standing directly behind you, Richard, this might be a good time."

There was a silent pause. He didn't even bother to turn around. "Beckett?"

"Castle."

Beckett's voice came from the doorway leading out to the deck. She had stopped running as soon as her feet had reached the ocean. Where was she to go? She knew that she might be hearing about what she intended to declare to Rick for the next sixty-five or seventy years, but she had decided that it was time to take a risk, to admit that what her heart wanted was what she wanted, and maybe it was time to risk it all. And, having finally made up her mind to admit to Rick Castle that she was in love with him, she had turned around and walked slowly back to the house.

Arriving at the open back door, all Beckett knew was that not only had she heard him declare his love for her, but from her present vantage point, she had the perfect view of Rick's naked rounded butt.

"Here, Bubble Butt, I brought you something," she added, walking behind him, and then wrapping the towel that he had dropped around his waist. "We need to talk. I love you, too." And she gently placed her hand on his back end and gave it a loving pat.

Martha smiled. "Alexis, you can open your eyes now. I think we need to go upstairs. We'll leave the two of you down here to plan your future. Alexis . . .?"

Without so much as a glance in the direction of the couple now embracing one another in the great room, the two redheads quickly climbed the stairs and retreated to Alexis' room, where they shut the door.

The couple remaining in the kitchen slowly began to explore one another. It could take hours, and they were no longer in any rush. New York City could wait until they had completed their discussion of their future together.


End file.
